I Want To Hold Your Hand
by Nerdywithoutacause
Summary: Darren's getting married and wants Chris to be his Best Man. Sort of how I view Darren and Chris's relationship. CrissColfer
1. Agony

**Disclaimer: I don't own either Darren Criss or Chris Colfer, I have no personal spy to sneak in and get me information on their secret conversations. Though that would be bad ass...and a terrible invasion of privacy. Onto the story.**

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><p>"Be my best man." Those words had sealed my fate. The sinking in my gut was nothing compared to the aching in my chest, pulsating and persistent. As if the very life of me was being sucked from it at that very moment. But tears didn't well up in my eyes and the knot in my throat was only slightly troublesome.<p>

I swallowed down the lump blocking off my air supply. "Can I wear a purple tie?" Barely a second later his strong, tanned arms were wrapped around my neck and my body was pressed against his so tightly I was sure he'd feel it when my heart finally just broke and shattered into a million pieces.

"You can come fucking naked for all I care." His words came out muffled against my neck, his lips brushed against me with his every word. The hot breath was just another teasing reminder. When the tears finally fell I knew he'd take it as the same happy ones flowing from his own eyes. He pulled back, hands firm on either side of my face, a thumb stroking a few tears from my face. The honest, tear-glazed, hazel bore into my soul. He was so fucking beautiful. Why was he so beautiful? Even tearing my insides out, he was the most perfect man I had ever had the pleasure of knowing, of befriending, of spending most of every single day with. "Thank you Chris. You don't understand how much this means to me." And with his hands pressed so firmly to my skin, with the thumb stroking over my cheek bone, for a moment I could imagine "this" had been "you". "If you said no, I-I don't think I could go through with it." With everything I had in me I wanted to ask why. Why did it matter to him? But a bigger part knew the answer would hurt, only make life harder for me when I sent him off to her, wished them a happy life together. So, I didn't. A shaky smile inched across my face.

"You're my best friend Dare; I'd do anything for you." Anything.

"And when you find someone who is worthy of sharing every single day of forever with you, I swear by whatever it is that makes this Earth go round, I'll be right there." And that probably hurt worse than anything he'd ever said. I did want him there, because he _was_ that someone for me. With a deep breath I threaded my fingers through his and pulled them down from my face. Standing so close, promising the world, it was too easy to pretend. I couldn't afford to pretend. Not anymore.

Every day for the next month was spent at some store, picking out tablecloths, china, colors and suits. Name it and I was doing it, Mia's Bridesmaids had some say of course, but they were out of their element and they knew it. I liked the girls just fine though, Mia included. I wished I didn't, it would have been so much easier to hate her for being the reason I went home every day to an empty house and an even emptier heart, if she had at least been a bitch. But she was the epitome of charm, it was only fitting; the female bookend to Darren. Female. Because Darren was straight. Because no matter how much we flirted, cuddled late at night watching Disney movies, got jealous of each other, or spent almost every waking minute with each other, she was his choice. She would always be before me, because I was a man. No matter how high my voice range was, I was a man.

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><p>It was nearly three weeks before the wedding when Darren and I got to really spend time together again. His dark head of curls rested heavily in my lap, my fingers trailing through them, partly because I knew he liked it and partly because I loved to feel the un-gelled rambunctious curls between my fingers.<p>

"I wish I had a fairy godmother." His fingers threaded in between mine of one hand and pulled them to rest on his chest, right over his heart. The steady thump beneath my fingertips was always so reassuring. Safe. Cinderella barely made it out of sight when her prince made it to the glass slipper. I couldn't help thinking how stupid she was for running. Her prince had ran after her and she had took it for granted. Stupid. Maybe that's why I was gay. Then he spoke and I was reminded again why I was _actually_ gay. Perfect men like Darren Criss.

"Yeah? What would you wish for, Chris?" _You._ I shrugged. The weight lifted from my thighs, my hands falling into my lap. For a moment I was afraid I had spoken aloud when he had turned around to face me. But the deep eyes searching my face with true questioning told me that I hadn't. My heart lurched when his hand came to cup my face, his eyebrows drawn in with some form of negative emotion. My brain was too clouded with the proximity to figure it out. "He'll be here one day, I promise you." Tears began to prickle in my eyes. I shook my head slowly, refusing to meet his gaze, but he brought me back forward. "He will Christopher. I wish…" Darren broke off still searching my face.

"You wish…?" I whispered. We were too close; I could count every eyelash, thick and black around his hazel orbs.

"I wish I could be that for you," he spoke. His voice was just a soft, but they hit me like a ton of bricks. Hot tears flowed like lava down my face. This time I did look away. "Chris, baby, please don't cry."

"D-don't." The break in my voice made me feel more pitiful. "Please, don't. I love you, Dare."

"I love you too."

"You know what I mean." Darren nodded slowly and pulled me into his lap. The tears soaked through his t-shirt but neither of us noticed. My body shook; silent sobs wrecked my form as the man I loved stroked my back, kissing my hair. "Shh," he coed in my ear. It did nothing to sooth the pain. "Come on," he whispered once I calmed down some, "you still have to teach me to dance." As if teaching him how to dance for his wedding to someone else was at the top of my wish list. But it was Darren, and no matter how much I wanted to take his outstretched hand and slap him across the face with it, I could only nod.

"There's no music." His chuckle was gentle but vibrated deep into my chest, pressed against his own. His hand slid down to rest on my waist. I tried to ignore the slight shudder that rocked me.

"Chris, singing is half our career, are you telling me we couldn't think up something?" I allowed our usual carefree banter to take over. He would always win in the end. No amount of resistance ever surpassed Darren. Not that he realized how he affected my self-control. He was oblivious not cruel, never cruel. "_Oh yeah, I'll tell you something. I think you'll understand._" Or at least, he hadn't been. The beautiful tenor's voice floated into my ears, into my brain, into my heart almost like an embrace. An embrace meant to hold on forever, trap me in him. As if I ever had a choice.

I pinched my eyelids closed tight. "Darren, _please._" The hand around my waist tightened slightly and then he was leading us in a butchered waltz.

"We need music Chris, sing with me. _When I'll say that something. I wanna hold your hand_." I took over leading, teaching him the proper way

"_I wanna hold your hand. I wanna hold your hand_."

"_Oh please, say to me. You'll let me be your man. And please, say to me. You'll let me hold your hand_." The way he was practically singing in my ear did nothing to stop the fluttering in my chest. I pushed him back slightly. He couldn't do this to me.

"_I'll let me hold your hand. I wanna hold your hand_." The hand in mine squeezed gently, a reassurance, something he had always done and brought so much comfort now only made me ache.

"_And when I touch you I feel happy. Inside. It's such a feeling that my love. I can't hide. I can't hide. I can't hide_." No, no he couldn't do that. He couldn't look at me the way he was and sing that to me, I moved to push him way and then Darren—heterosexual star of my every fantasy and fairytale ending— pulled me flush against him and sealed his lips against mine. Every fiber of my being was bursting with life. I couldn't move, couldn't think. Everything was just _Darren. _His smell filled my nostrils, his heat soaked into my skin like a flower after a drought, the _taste _of him on my lips sent my mind in a frenzy. This wasn't Kurt and Blaine, this was Chris and Darren. Engaged Darren. Straight Darren.

But then his hands were in my hair, at the back of my neck, stroking my face. When his tongue ran along my lip I lost all coherent thought. What was tomorrow's pain compared to the feel of Darren's _tongue_? He took my gasp as an opportunity to invade my mouth, skimming the entirety of it, the back of my teeth, my pallet, and my tongue. It was all so him. The hole that had erupted in my soul from the beginning was suddenly filled, I was so whole. So freaking complete. My fingers pulled at his curly mane. The feeling of his moan when I nipped at his lip was like nothing I had ever felt. It was heat and comfort and safety and passion and _home. _And then he was pulling away and it was all hitting me again how this wasn't happening. How he wasn't mine, how he was getting married in three weeks. And _how_ could he do this to me? To his best friend? To someone he supposedly loved.

"Darren, how-how could you do that to me? To _me_?" Tears were falling from my eyes once again alarmingly, I never used to cry. I used to be so strong. Never once had I let the bullies see me cry growing up, never once had I let broke down in front of those who tore me down. But this wasn't my bully, and while he was in his own right, my tormentor, he was Darren. _My _Darren. Mia's Darren.

"Chris, no—Chris don't run away," the hand around my wrist kept me in place as the other pulled my face back around to face him. "I'm so, so sorry Chris. I never want to hurt you. I just—please stop crying. It fucking kills me when you cry."

"Then stop making me do it!" I screamed. He was so stupid, so freaking stupid, and beautiful, and oblivious, and perfect, and engaged and I just hated him. "I _love_ you Dare. Do you not understand that? Every time you do this to me it hurts, it hurts so fucking bad. Like someone's pulling the heart from my chest. I love you so _much_ and you know that Darren! You _know_ that. I-I hope you're happy with Mia, I really, really do. I would never wish you anything less. I can't see you anymore. Goodbye Dare." My legs carried me as far as they could before they gave out with a sobbing Darren latched to them.

"I'll be anything you want, anything you need me to be. I promise, anything you need from me. I love you Chris. I can't go for the rest of my life without you in it. You're my best friend." I wished at that moment that I was more selfish, that I could look him in the face and tell him that he had to be with me the way I needed him to be. To call off the wedding, whatever it took to make him mine. But looking down at the tear-stained face of the beautiful idiot I knew I couldn't live with myself if I forced it on him. Couldn't live with myself knowing that I had made him choose.

"You can't be what I need you to be Darren. I'll be your friend. Always, I'll always be your friend." His smile was the only thing that kept the waves of misery at bay.

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><p>Three weeks later Darren said "I do". That night I cried harder than I had ever cried in my life. Somehow the tears helped fill the space inside of me, even if just by the tiniest bit.<p>

A week after, Darren showed up on my doorstep, white gold wedding band adorning his left hand, and a frown adorning his face. "I haven't seen you in a month Colfer!" he slurred. It was real anger on his face, but there was also real hurt.

"I saw you last week Dare, at your wedding, remember?" I barely heard my own voice, how Darren picked it up in his drunken stupor, I didn't know.

"I miss you." It was a whimper, a plea for his friend back, but despite the promise I made him, I couldn't give him what he needed. What he wanted.

"Darren, I-I need you to go, please."

"You don't love me anymore, Chris. _Why_?" he demanded. A blunt finger pressed into my sternum as he stepped closer into my space. "Is it someone else? That guy you danced with at the wedding? It's him, isn't it? I'll kill him! He took you away, I swear I'll kill him!"

"I'll always love you, you stupid, oblivious bastard! And no there isn't anyone else, it's only ever been you. Even if I am better off with that Lance guy, at least he's able to be attracted to me."

"He had stupid hair and he was too tall." And then he was kissing me. A real kiss, the second we shared. In a moment of weakness I moaned into his mouth, his tongue fought against mine. Alcohol was potent on his tongue and it sickened me that on Darren I found in attractive. I shoved him away with all the force I had in my being. "You can't do this to me! You're _married_ Darren, and straight. Have you forgotten that?"

"No! No, I haven't forgotten damn it. But you won't talk to me, and I fucking miss you. I miss you so damn bad. You said I couldn't be what you needed but look! You like kissing me, don't you? I like kissing you, I _love_ kissing you. Even as a man you're the mst beautiful person I've ever met. I could be what you need. I _could_ be Chris, if it would bring you back to me, I could be."

"Dare, look at me. It _hurts. _I'm in _agony._ Every second of the day I'm thinking about you. Every time I see a Disney movie, or a nerdy t-shirt, or something neon pink, or my Harry Potter collection it's all _you_. And it freaking hurts." The slamming of the door swinging shut and the miserable glint in Darren's beautiful eyes haunted me that night.

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><p>I didn't hear back from him for months, until another drunken night when he showed up on my doorstep. Stop, rewind, repeat. Neither of us could ever be what the other wanted, but somehow amongst all the anguish being just that gave us at least part of what we needed.<p>

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><p><strong>Possible two-shot anyone? Let me know. :)<strong>


	2. Optional Sequel: Darren's Point of View

**Thanks so, SO much to everyone who reviewed. And I'm flattered by all of you who favorited this. I'm honored. So as requested here is the sequel type thing. It's actually an optional ending. I'm not sure if I did it justice, but I tried my best. I'd REALLY love to hear everyone's opinion, kind of a heads up on what to fix and all that.**

**Darren's Point of View.**

**Disclaimer: Don't make me say it?**

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><p>The heavy pounding on the door acted like a knife in my skull. My name should have sounded nicer on her lips. I loved her, I always had. Even before, during every second of our on-off relationship I loved her. That didn't excuse her from breaking the silence of the most hung-over morning of my life. Every time it seemed to get worse. Drink, bang on Chris' door, wake up with the worst hangover in my life. Which was true every single time, since every hangover was worse than the last. "Darren!" Telling her to shove it just seemed a little too harsh, even if her shrillness made my ears bleed.<p>

"Be a little quieter would you, Mia?" My voice was surprisingly raspy. The night before was a blur. I wondered idly if I had been overly loud at Chris'. I didn't bother to wonder if I had gone there. I always went. Every time. My heart clenched at the thought of him. Six months with no—sober—contact. How had it come to this? How had I _let_ it come to this?

"I've been quiet for the past six months Darren." More pounding. Even with my head bent over the toilet a good fifteen feet away, it felt like she was pounding directly on top of it. With a hammer. Some part of me wished she would. Maybe it would knock me out. Unconsciousness sounded like a fantasy, a beautiful fantasy.

"Just. Fucking—Okay. Give me a second." My pulse beat loudly in my ears, the world spun up at me far too fast and I was back on the floor. I was content to stay like that for the rest of my life, on the floor, my face pressed into the cold tiles. And silence. Oh blissful silence. And then my body had other plans.

"Darren?" The only answer she received was the squelch of more vomit into the toilet. I cringed at the taste of tequila and stomach acid. The porcelain bowl was cool against my heated skin. My only friend in the world. My own fault. Only mine. Always mine. There were hands on my face, smooth and soft and—feminine. More feminine than his hands. Mia's hands. "Baby, please. I hate that you're doing this to yourself." I hadn't even heard her come in. But the door was locked…? Too much thought.

"Doing what to myself? People drink."

Her fingers threaded through my curls. I had the urge to pull away, that was Chris' thing. Chris who hated me now. Chris who I hadn't spoken to in so long that the exact octave of his adorable, squeaky laugh was becoming a vague, distant memory. But I didn't want to forget. I never wanted to forget. "Not like you. I haven't even seen you eat a real meal in months."

"What are you talking about? I ate yester—" Actually, I couldn't remember the last time I had eaten. Surely that was just the effects of the booze. Mia caught my eye knowingly. Shit. "I'll eat. Alright? We'll have dinner at home tonight, I'll cook. Does pasta sound good? Chris always liked my lasagna—" And then it was all crashing back on me full force. An ocean of memories I didn't have the right to have, thoughts that I couldn't think and I was suffocating. Suffocating and choking and drowning all at the same time. My breath came in short bursts; it wasn't enough to satisfy my need. My chest hurt, like a twenty pound weight pressing into me. It ached. My vision blurred, ears popped until the only thing I could hear was the dull roar of my heart beat in my ears pounding erratically like a child with a drum.

"Darren, calm down. Baby, look at me, you're having an anxiety attack, take a deep breath." I didn't want to take a deep breath. Breathing hurt. Everything hurt. Life hurt. I didn't want to hurt. And then I was gasping and sputtering and okay maybe breathing would help. The hands that clenched around mine weren't the ones I wanted and all at once I knew I needed to see him. Sober. Cohesive. Just like that it was simple again. I could breath, the pressure was gone, and my heart was safely back in my chest and out of my ears.

"I have to see him; today I have to see him."

"You haven't even got over _this_ hangover yet."

"No. No. Not-not like that. I have to go see him. Now. I have to-have to see him." My legs couldn't lift me fast enough. The world spinning in circles around me couldn't keep me from trying to hightail it.

"Do you think that's the best idea, Dare?" The whispered words were almost inaudible to my clouded, discombobulated mind.

"What do you mean, Mia?" I hadn't meant for it to come out so harsh. My current position was no fault or hers. She was a victim of my stupidity, just one more to add to my list to people wronged. I never meant for any of it to happen. Had I always been such a douche or had I grown into it? I was always hurting someone. The guilt inching its way into my gut caused me to backpedal. "Why do you say that?"

"He's in love with you. Don't you think you should just let him get over you?" The words halted every emotion in me until all I could feel were the words slamming into me with enough force that I was sure they would knock me back down. _…get over you?_ The words didn't feel right. They didn't sound right. They hurt like I knew they shouldn't. Maybe I wasn't okay with him getting over me. It was wrong, but I was selfish. So, so fucking selfish. So selfish that at that moment I hated myself. Every fiber of my being was in war with the other, trying to destroy what they could because if I wasn't there, then no one could get hurt by me.

"How—How did you know?"

"A damn blind man could see the way he looks at you. You just lead him on with your flirty and your late night "cuddle sessions" and do you really think I haven't heard about what you do every time you run off to get drunk? People talk Darren. Let him _go_."

"Maybe I can't!" The roar was unrecognizable to my own ears. But I _couldn't_. I wasn't able to let him go. Chris was so much stronger than I was. Through every bit of the hurt he kept on marching, biting back the emotions and holding his head tall. I was weak. The force of it all made my knees buckle, my skin singe. Maybe he would be okay if I left him alone long enough, maybe he would move on and find someone else to love, someone worthy of him. But I couldn't do that, would never be able to do that. And I wanted his happiness. Goddamn I wanted him happy. But why did his happiness and mine have to result in such opposite fashions? I, Darren Criss, am a selfish bastard. That's why.

"This is dangerous territory Darren. If you cross here, I can't let it go. Not anymore."

"Mia," I pleaded, "I _can't_. I can't just let him go. It doesn't work that way, not for me."

"Choose." No. No, she didn't say that. She wouldn't. I prayed to have heard her wrong. But the steely gaze fastened to my face and the arched eyebrow said all I need to know. "Him or me. I can't live this way. I love you. But I won't share you." Nausea clutched at my stomach. I felt sick. So freaking sick. As if the thought itself would eat its way through me until I was lying in two on the floor.

"Don't ask that of me Mia. Don't." Tears were falling down her face, but I couldn't comfort her, couldn't kiss them away like so many times before. This was my fault. My heart broke a little more with each audible sob until I could feel myself breaking down. Everything was such a mess. Such a stupid fucking mess. And why? Why did it have to be this way?

She didn't say it, not when I left the bathroom, not when I closed the front door behind me, not when I was sprinting down the hallway in my sweats, but I knew when I came back, her things would be packed up and she would be gone.

It hadn't occurred to me when I was sprinting from my apartment how early it still was. It was barely eight o'clock, my early morning brought on by a bout of nausea. But my knuckles only hesitated for a moment above the dark, painted metal before tapping out a familiar tune. I was a jittery mess, my knees barely kept up my stocky form and I had to slip my hands into my pockets to keep my mind off of how hard they were shaking. The light footsteps over carpet shouldn't have been so familiar to me. My chest ached just a little more. Why had I waited so long? "Isn't it a little too early to be drunk Darren, or did you just never stop?" The muffled response behind the door sent my pulse racing. Chris. It seemed like an eternity since I'd heard his voice. "Go away. I've gotten two warnings for noise violation already; one more and they're going to kick me out." The voice was steady and stern, but the emotion trapped in its depths is what had the knot in my throat forming. He was calling to me, just knowing his presence was so close had my mind spinning out of control. And as if I could somehow suck up his warmth through the cool metal I was pressed against it, my hands planted firmly on either side of my head.

"Chris, please." It was the only thing my poor disoriented mind could think of to say. There was a distinct sniff on the other side that sent a sharp pain directly to my heart. I never could take him crying.

"I can actually understand you, finally drink yourself sober? Or are you just getting better at faking it?" The sarcasm was always the first sign of true despair. Unlike his television counterpart, Christopher wasn't one to be overly snarky.

"I'm so sorry, Chris. So, _so_ freaking sorry. I know I'm a dick and I don't deserve to breathe the same air as you, but I need to see you. Please. Open the door." Everything was on automatic now. My words were flowing on their own as if they had always been there waiting to be spoken. The insistent tapping of my hand didn't even register until it was vibrating into my ear. "_Please_." The break in my voice made the self-hatred a little more tangible.

And then the door was opening, only slightly and I was met by the most beautiful glasz eyes I had ever seen. The eyes I had missed so much. But the unshed tears in them drew my attention before I could really think too much on memorizing their every detail. "If-if I open this you have to promise to- to keep your hands to yourself. You have to promise. Promise me, Darren." It broke my heart. My fault. The pain dropping his voice a noticeable octave was my fault. Blue-green-grey eyes regarded me warily, seeming almost…afraid? He was afraid of me? And then the shattering was almost audible, to my own ears at least. Never in my existence had I ever expected that.

"Are you—Chris are you afraid of me?"

"Promise me!" As if I could do anything else.

"I promise." For the first time—that I could remember—Chris was revealed to me in his entirety. There was nothing more I wanted then than to scoop up his lithe form and crush him to me, bury my nose in his hair, take in the smell of his shampoo, pepper his face with kisses. But one fearful glance in my direction as I stepped inside his apartment silenced all my desires.

For the first time I looked at him. Really looked at him. His pajamas hung low on his waist, revealing a glimpse of protruding hipbones. He'd lost weight. At least fifteen pounds. The naturally clear, porcelain skin that adorned his face had lost its usual flair. The beautiful eyes I loved so much had lost their spark. Shit. Shit. Damn. Shit. Damn. Fuck. No. No, it was entirely my fault. I broke Chris Colfer. Chris Colfer of the top One Hundred Most Influential People. Chris Colfer who triumphed over bullies and homophobia, who had become a house hold name, who always stood so tall. I broke him. Broke his spirit. Put out his fire. Monster. Fucking monster. The broken boy shifted nervously beneath my scrutiny, pulling the edge of his shirt down over the exposed skin.

"It's early, some of us need sleep. Is there any particular reason you came banging down my door? Again."

"Yeah I just—Shit. Chris you don't know how hard this is for me. Not-not being able to hold you when I know you're hurting."

"You promised," he rasped.

"I know. I won't, it just hurts. I— Look, I shouldn't be here. I know that. I'm a selfish bastard. I know that too. But I don't think you know that I can't keep doing this." My legs propelled me just a small bit closer unconsciously. "It's killing me not being able to call you when I wake up from a stupid dream and tell you all about it so you can tease me about it for the next week. I can't stand eating take out every day because cooking reminds me of how I can't do that for you anymore. I can't say your name- your fucking _name_ without having an anxiety attack," a humorless laugh escaped my lips. "Mia left me."

A gasp. "Dare, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" He was sorry? I ripped his heart out and stomped on it and he was apologizing?

"No, don't apologize. Don't you dare. Just hear me out." He nodded slowly, deliberately. "I told her I had to come see you. She told me to let you let me go. But I _can't_ Chris. I can't go for the rest of my life without you and I told her that. She told me to choose. And then she left."

"Da-Dare. Please don't tell me she left because you chose me," he pleaded with me. His eyes were begging me and for a moment I almost turned and left him forever just so he _would_ get over me. So that I could never cause that look on his face again. But I'm weak. "No! You don't get to do this to me. I can't-I can't handle this. I can almost handle you a few times drunk out of your mind, babbling and screaming insanities, because I can almost detest you for it. I can almost imagine that I'm not in love with you. But you can't come here and tell me you choose me over your wife, because it gives me hope Darren. And I can't _afford _to hope. My heart can't take it anymore." And then I broke my promise. Before I could order my body to do otherwise, I stepped forwards, scooped him up and crushed him against me. Just like I had wanted to the second I saw him. He resisted for a moment and then his resistance shattered like the dam holding back my tears. His body shuttered against me and I held him tighter, tried to communicate what I was feeling with my touch. My face found the crook his neck where it always smelled so strongly of him. I would never take that smell for granted again. His hands—God his hands—clutched at my t-shirt. My skin burned from his contact, even through the thin material.

"Don't send me away again Chris. Don't send me away."

There was never a voiced response, just the subtle shaking of his head brushing me.

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><p><strong>Fin<strong>

**Not really a happy ending so much, but I didn't feel like a lovey-dovey, mushy-gushy ending fit this too well. Review?**


	3. Epilogue: The real ending Darren's POV

**I lied. This is the end. You people were killing me. In a good way of course. Um. It's not like...a definite ending or anything, but I figured it's the best resolution that I could create for this here thingy. It's even pretty angst-less. I'm so proud of myself. Anyway, it's really short but here it is. Have at it. **

**Disclaimer: Not mine. No matter how much I wish. **

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><p>"Chris!" My body jolted to attention. It was dark, pitch black with not even a vague outline of the surroundings. Widening my eyes did nothing to enhance the view. The racing of my heart was overpowering, a reminder of the fear that had thrown me from unconsciousness. The dream. It<em> had<em> been a dream right? Damn it, why was it so dark? I opened and closed my eyes a few times. Nothing. Not a freaking thing. Why the hell couldn't I—Oh. Soft, plushy material brushed against my fingertips. A sleeping mask. The one Chris had forced on me to "improve my sleep". Right.

The lack of mask didn't change the view much, but the faint outline of the items strewn across my room eased my panic. But…Chris? The details were vague, just out of reach but the fear was still prominent and annoyingly persistent. Something to do with him. For the life of me I couldn't remember and maybe it was better that I didn't since it had sent me flying up and awake with his name dying on my lips. And there was the panic again. Something that told me to find him, to protect him, to make sure he was okay. And then there was part of me that didn't want to look, some part that worried that this time, my search would come up empty. That this time he would be gone and I would be lost.

"There are...just too many...too many…monkeys!" The scream startled me, to say the least. The warm body next to me was finally brought to my attention. God, he was precious. Even beneath the shadow of darkness splayed across his form, the curves of his face were identifiable and eye-catching. Plump, pink lips quivered under my gaze, eyes moving furiously beneath the nearly translucent pale eyelids. A whimper.

"Chris?" The whisper was barely audible against the shell of his ear. It was never good to wake him mid-dream. At least he wasn't sleep walking. "You're safe." A tiny exhale then the pointed, upturned turned nose found the crook of my neck. The angelic features relaxed visibly, even from my skewed vision.

"Darren." It was so soft I nearly didn't hear it. But it was there, heavy and light at the same time, brushing against my skin, against my heart. The heart that beat so hard I was sure it would wake him. "Love you." The breath caught in my throat.

"I love you too." It seemed to appease the sleeping boy. Somehow he ended up half on top of me, his face pressed into my neck and his hands rested on my chest. The skin of his chest burned into my own. He set me ablaze. Set me on fire like no one ever had.

It wasn't easy or simple. It was complicated and difficult and I screwed things up so often it still shocked me every time he let me back in, but in a way it was. It was so fucking simple it drove me crazy and made me wonder how I could ever be so stupid. Why I could ever find anything to question. We weren't dating, not really. But I didn't date and neither did he. There was no talk of the future or what it might bring, no talk of labels, no questions. Kisses took the place of nights of hot and sweaty, but regretted sex. Whispers and light touches took the place of dirty talk and the awkward morning after. There was cuddling and handholding and cheesy movies that no two men should ever watch as "just friends". There were odd looks and questioning glances. And there was love. So much love, that terms weren't needed. We were "Chris and Darren". Nothing else really mattered. Someday we would sit down and talk about it, someday a line would be crossed, an irreversible line that would define us and what we were and what we could be. We weren't perfect, but at that moment, with Chris' light breath brushing over my skin, with his smooth skin on mine, we just were. And that was enough.

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><p><strong>Fin. Seriously this time. Review? Oh, and alert me of mistakes, I'm not the best at catching them.<strong>

**Tiffanie:)**


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